Page 38 of When Sinners Hate
“And the logistics?” I press.
“Not yet. However, I’m told that a meeting with the wider family will be forthcoming. That’s when we’ll negotiate.”
“Forgive me, I know I don’t know the full details of the operation, but wasn’t logistics and moving our product wider the one goal we needed in this plan?”
“Careful, Alexia.” There was a time I’d dread hearing that tone from him. Not anymore.
“No. I’m here, locked in a room and married to a Cortez in order to progress our business, and there’s no progress.”
“These things take time. You don’t simply barge in and demand.”
“Well, we fucking should,” I seethe. “If you don’t show our strength, they will dictate and walk all over you. Do you need me to set up a meeting between you and my husband? Do you need me to push our own agenda with the Cortezes?”
“Alexia, I don’t need you to dictate how I do business. I’ve warned you before.”
“And I’ve warned you not to underestimate me. I told you that we could have everything we’ve ever wanted, but you seem unable to grasp that. Clearly, you admire and respect Melena Cortez. She and you put this whole thing together, even at the expense of Nicolas. Why is it such a stretch for you to have the same faith in your own blood?”
The silence on the other end of the call tells me everything I need to know. If I’d uttered those words face to face, he’d have back-handed me and beat the rudeness out of me. Now he can’t do that. He has no control over me or what I do because, like it or not, he needs me in his game of power, and maybe he’s realising this for himself. For the first time in my life, I feel powerful over my father. “I’ll take your silence as a good sign that you’re finding the words to show me that you trust me to make this work in Ortega’s favour. You can carry on believing you’re in control, Daddy. I’ll be in touch when the rest of my plan is in place – the plan that sees us exact the revenge we deserve, or have you forgotten all about that, too?”
“Alexia–”
“Don’t. You can’t say anything to me right now. You can wait for the meeting with my husband and see what they’re prepared to support you with. If you don’t need me, then prove it.”
I end the call, my heartbeat pounding in my chest and anger bubbling through me. Between him, my fake husband and the little show down with Mariana, I’m ready to explode. Or break something.
I leave the room and head towards the formal dining room. Luckily, there’s a member of staff heading towards what I presume is the kitchen; I’ve still not set foot inside it. “Excuse me!” I shout. They stop dead and turn. “Is there a gym here? I’ve only seen part of the house and could really do with a workout.” The startled look on her face tells me she’s not sure what to say. “Tell me!” I shout, and she jumps a little.
The little nod is amusing, but she scurries off in the direction of Melena’s wing, so I follow down a staircase, through a door and into a small studio space.
“Thank you.” I smile, then turn around and head back to my room to peel off my clothes. They get dropped to the floor as I rummage in my drawer for yoga pants. I don’t usually work out at home. Back in Miami, I’d go out for yoga or Pilates and have my list of appointments at numerous spas and beauticians – all part of the package of Alexia Ortega, but here? I'm barely allowed out of the grounds.
Pulling my hair back and securing myself in a workout top, I head back downstairs. Being tall meant I was good at running at school. Of course, I never tried very hard at sports, but every now and then, it still gives me an outlet. Every time my father thought he could use me and control me for his gain, I’d run. Like my own brand of therapy – exercising the memory or experience.
Setting the controls on the runner, I start off on a gentle walk, increasing the tempo until I’m jogging and pushing it further until I’m flat out. My lungs start to protest as heat spreads up to my face. It’s been a while since I’ve needed to run like this, and I’m out of practice. My feet are sure as they pound down on the rubber track, and after a couple of minutes, I settle into a rhythm. My mind begins to clear, and the anger dissipates with every breath I take.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” Melena’s witchy voice screeches.
And my peace is shattered.
I don’t stop right away but bring down the pace gently until I’m walking. I’m not turning around to look at her either, assuming she’s still waiting for my explanation. When I finally stop, my legs feel a little unsteady underfoot, and I curse that Melena will see me in this state – red-faced and sweaty – but maybe it’s time.
“Melena. I was having a workout. I asked about a gym and was shown here. It didn’t seem to crop up on my earlier tours.”
“Because this is my space. Not yours.”
“So, there’s another gym I should have been shown to?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs.
“Well then.” I pause and take a few deep breaths. In my haste to get my frustrations out, I forgot to bring water or a towel with me. “What did you expect? And you know, it would be nice if you didn’t see me as the enemy that has to be locked away in a particular room of the house. We’ve not spent much time together, but we’re living together. Let’s not be bitchy.”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I think I might have pushed her too far for a second.
“Bitchy. I see.” She stalks towards me. “I thought that was your trait. Don’t think we’ve not done our research on you, Alexia.”
“I was a bitch, and I can certainly be one when I need to be, but you, of all people, must understand that in a man’s world, we can’t look weak.”
“I was never weak.” The toxicity in her voice is there for a reason.